


Stress Relief

by The_Quartermasters



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Bargaining, Bathroom Sex, First Time Bottoming, M/M, Mirrors, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Role Reversal, Rules, Shameless Smut, Sneaking Around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 20:34:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6299374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Quartermasters/pseuds/The_Quartermasters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a trying dinner party at Varia castle, Yamamoto corners Gokudera for a bathroom quickie but to get what he wants, Yamamoto's going to have to offer a lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stress Relief

**Author's Note:**

> A junkfood pwp from May 2010.

The evening was going as well as could be expected. Traveling to Italy with the whole Family was often an uncomfortable affair -- particularly when it involved pleasantries with the Varia and all their eccentric quirks. Luckily at this particular dinner party, Dino Cavalone was present as a mediator and managed to keep things slightly more sane than they might have been. Nonetheless, a breather from the Varia's violent idiosyncrasies was welcome when Gokudera excused himself from the table to use the restroom. What wasn't welcome, however, was when he opened the bathroom door to return to the party and a hand pushed him back in. Yamamoto grinned down at him as the door snapped shut behind him.

"Hey."

"Hey," was the suspicious answer and Gokudera frowned, took a step back -- if only to avoid Yamamoto's hand. "Excuse me," he added, brow twitching once, and he tried to walk around the hulking rain guardian.

But Yamamoto only grinned wider and locked the door with a click.

"What's the hurry?" He caught Gokudera's wrist, tugging him closer -- uncomfortably closer. "You're tense tonight."

"The Varia make me tense," Gokudera admitted, something he'd never have copped to a few years before. But Yamamoto had a way of seeing through him and he'd long since realized there was little use hiding much of anything from the man. He pulled back just enough so they were no longer sharing red wine tinged breath before explaining, "That snotty 'prince' and his fluffy rat piss me off. And Xanxus, that bastard, keeps shooting me weird, angry looks, like he thinks I spit in his soup. And your goddamn shark friend needs to learn to keep his feet to himself under the goddamn table."

Yamamoto laughed, propping his arms on Gokudera's shoulders like they were much younger than they were, a boyish gesture not uncommon from the swordsman. "I figured as much. You should let me help you relax," he said cheerfully and before Gokudera could protest, a forceful kiss was pressed to his mouth.

For a brief moment, Gokudera seemed almost to be letting him get away with it, but no, two hands worked their way between them, shoving Yamamoto back a step. When he met Gokudera's eyes, the bomber's face was aflame, his mouth wet and pink and open in an irritated 'o'. "You think fooling around in a public place where anyone could hear us is going to help me /relax/? What planet are you from?"

"It's not that public!" Yamamoto protested, strong arms keeping him from getting far. "This is on a whole different floor than the dining room. And it's not like it's the only bathroom in the castle, no one will catch us." Smirking, he reeled the other man against him, getting an earlobe between his teeth before Gokudera could fight him off. His tongue lathed over an earring. "I'll do anything you want..." he sing-songed quietly in the bomber's ear while a hand snaked down to squeeze his ass.

"Anything I want?" Gokudera echoed, a shiver stealing through his body as Yamamoto's teeth teased at the silver hoops.

"A-ny-thing," Yamamoto purred back. He was taking liberties already though, taking Gokudera's consent for granted as his mouth moved to his neck, kisses hot. Thankfully his teeth held back, knowing full well that Gokudera would give him some bruises of his own if he dared to leave a mark in the middle of a dinner party. His coaxing hands pressed them together, bringing hips to contact.

Gokudera's cheeks were flushed, and they both knew he'd be lying if he tried to insist that he had no interest in sticking around to see what might happen next. Still, his fingers were firm, almost too rough when he grabbed for Yamamoto's hips and forced them apart. "Then let me fuck you this time."

Yamamoto's sultry, playful, smirking flirtations drained in one shocked instant, staring with wide eyes, arms still around his waist. "W-what?" He blinked rapidly. "I--I mean... here? That's... that's what you want?"

"That's what I want," Gokudera confirmed, eyes burning as thumbs dug into Yamamoto's hips. "If you're going to go so far as to corner me like this, to tease me, to put your damned hands all over me... then we're going to play by my rules."

"Hah..." Yamamoto grinned just a little nervously. "I guess I can't really complain... not when you look like that." He tried to pull Gokudera against him again but was held back, punished until he were to agree to the terms. "I said whatever you want."

"Rule #1," Gokudera began, his hands sliding around Yamamoto's waist, fingertips slipping under the hem of his suit jacket, tugging his shirt loose from the waistband of his slacks. "Is that you can't make any noise louder than we are speaking right now." His hands, warm and surprisingly intent, slid up the bare skin of Yamamoto's back now. "Rule #2, neither of us will leave any marks which might be perceptible to the Family." He dragged Yamamoto close then, dipping his head to bite at the juncture of the taller man's neck and shoulder, teeth harsh even through fabric.

Yamamoto grunted with surprise, his back pressed against the wall in a clear reversal of his intent when he'd ducked in to the bathroom. "A-all right," he murmured. His hands found Gokudera's belt, sliding around to the front to tug it loose, giving a huff of breath when Gokudera bit him again. "Nn... hah -- you'll be gentle, right?" he tried for a joke.

"I know what I'm doing," Gokudera answered, little comfort in the words, or the way his own hands found and removed Yamamoto's own belt, whipping it free from its loops in one sharp movement. "Rule #3..." A smirk. "Trust me."

Before Yamamoto could answer, Gokudera's hands were on his wrists. He pulled him under the light of vanity bulbs and in front of the mirror that stretched the length of the counter and sinks. With a tug, he spun Yamamoto around.

"Ah--" Yamamoto caught himself on the edge of the counter and met Gokudera's eyes in the mirror, instantly flushing. "Like this? In... in front of the mirror? Hah... I didn't realize you were so kinky, Gokudera..." His humor did little to mask his obvious embarrassment at the idea of watching themselves that way.

"I want to see your face," Gokudera explained, without even a flicker of humor as he helped Yamamoto out of his jacket, hung it on a nearby hook, shrugged out of his own, loosened his tie. "Rule #4, don't close your eyes." Watching Yamamoto's nervous face, the silver-haired man reached over his shoulder and around his chest to work his own tie free, to pluck open the buttons of his shirt, drawing it open just enough to see the scattered scars that dotted his torso, some old, some recent. He left the shirt in place though, kissing the back of Yamamoto's neck in a gesture so strangely intimate that the swordsman startled, and then Gokudera's hand was on one shoulder and pushing him over the counter, so that he had to catch himself on the marble, weight resting on his forearms, fingers splayed across the cool stone.

"Ah..." Yamamoto watched him, then glanced at his own reflection, then back to Gokudera. It was an odd change of pace from the usual urgent tryst, ironically. Most of their encounters were Yamamoto hurrying slyly to urge Gokudera's body into overwhelming need until there was no objection when he slid inside, both of them so worked up that it was simply a matter of Yamamoto going for it first. He wasn't object to the idea of returning the favor but... A shiver stole through him, already achingly hard and straining against his slacks when Gokudera's fingers trailed there. "Y-yeah, okay," he breathed. "I'll play by the rules, I promise..."

"Good," Gokudera hummed, popping free the button on Yamamoto's trousers, teasing when he pulled down the zipper slowly, fingers brushing but offering little more. A small tug left his waistband riding low, the taller man's aching arousal already wetting the front of his shorts where it strained, tenting the fabric. Reaching over Yamamoto's shoulder, the bomber snagged a bottle from the row of lotions and colognes, the hand soaps and hair gels lined up for the Varia's use. "You know how this goes, so just relax," he added, offering Yamamoto's words back to him as he cracked open the bottle of unscented lotion, one foot, still shod in its fine Italian leather, lifted to tug the dark-haired man's slacks down around his ankles.

Yamamoto couldn't help but be a little humiliated when Gokudera's hand slid under the waistband of his shorts -- it was as compromising a position as he'd ever been in. He was tense, couldn't help it, shivering when fingers began to prod slickly. His cock jumped with protest as one worked its way inside and he sucked in a shuddering breath and tilted his hips, forcing his body to relax around the invasion, even rocking back on to it.

"Remember all the things you're always telling me," Gokudera chided, finger stilling as he spoke. "'Relax.' 'Open up.' 'I'm not going to hurt you.' 'This will feel good.'" His voice was a hum, almost teasing. "You've got an advantage here, /Takeshi/. Because when /I/ say 'it'll feel good', you know that I'm speaking from personal experience and not just... pardon the pun, talking out my ass."

Yamamoto huffed a breathy, strained laugh and pushed down a swallow. His face was hot, body aching with want that was only emphasized by the way the tables had been turned on him. "Y...yeah... hah..." he managed, glancing at Gokudera in the mirror. A few more breaths and he was able to relax properly. "It's fine... keep going... they'll wonder where we are..."

"We'll tell them you weren't feeling well," Gokudera decided, helping Yamamoto step free from his slacks, to spread his legs just a little wider. "Something you ate." Now a second finger joined the first, smoothly enough that Yamamoto felt no pain. "Being the responsible right-hand man that I am, I stayed with you until you felt well enough to rejoin the party."

"Nn--okay, yeah," Yamamoto agreed with no small measure of distraction. Whatever Gokudera said at this point was what he would go along with. He wasn't in much position to protest to anything, bent over the vanity with clothes disheveled, pants still around one ankle and shoes and socks still on. If it had been Gokudera in his place, he would have thought it unbelievably arousing but from the place itself, he thought he must look ridiculous. Those searching fingers sent a sharp chill through his body, tensing momentarily but then opening more for him, panting faintly as he reached to pull his shorts down to a similar state as his pants, giving up to the other man completely. His arousal hung dark and heavy but he avoided touching himself, certain it would get him in trouble. Instead he moved back against Gokudera's fingers, gasping faintly but taking it in stride, down to the last knuckles. "Gokudera, please... don't you wanna..."

"I'm not sure you're ready," Gokudera answered and from someone else's mouth it might have seemed like an expression of concern. From Gokudera it sounded like a judgment. Or a challenge. A third finger joined the first two, stretching him further as Gokudera hummed above him, watching his face in the mirror.

Yamamoto groaned, frustrated and tensing all over again, another gasp pried free as he was stretched open further, palms flat on the counter. "It-It's fine!" he blurted breathlessly. "You're not /that/ big!" The instant the words left his mouth, his heart plummeted into his stomach, meeting Gokudera's eyes in the mirror with nothing short of abject fear. "I--I mean - I just mean I'm ready!"

Gokudera expression at that moment would have shattered the mirror if looks really could kill. His fingers left Yamamoto's body abruptly and for a beat he was sure Gokudera would walk away, would leave him like this, pants at his feet, hard and dripping, alone in the empty bathroom. But in the next moment, a foot connected with his ankle, knocking his legs farther apart, and Gokudera's weight pinned him to the counter. "I aught to leave right now," he heard, a hot hiss against his skin. Behind him, Gokudera fumbled with his own slacks and a moment later, Yamamoto's felt his hands on him, spreading him open, something hot and slick nudging only briefly. "But you owe me this and it's not going to be that easy to get out of taking your turn." He pushed in.

Instantly, Yamamoto knew that Gokudera had been right and he had been wrong. He /was/ that big and Yamamoto /wasn't/ ready and it was all he could do to keep his voice from rising in his throat. His hands pressed hard at the marble counter and he bit hard at his lip to keep his voice in check as Gokudera sank deep into him, somehow uncomfortable and intoxicating at the same time. He couldn't hesitate or protest now though, not after that horrible faux pas. He didn't want Gokudera to stop anyway when it came down to it. "Nnn... Gokudera..." he groaned and steeling his strength and control, pushed back, stealing his own breath away until he was flush to the other man's thighs and hips.

For a breath, neither men moved, Gokudera's hands were on his hips, fingers digging hard, leaving marks that were sure to become bruises. They adjusted to each other, and as Yamamoto remembered to relax, Gokudera began to breathe again.

"Fuck," he hissed, brow pressed to Yamamoto's spine. "No one else really has been here, have they?" Yamamoto wondered when Gokudera had become so talkative during sex. And then the bomber drew back, let out another breath, pressed back in again.

Yamamoto grit his teeth, heat and discomfort and amorphous pleasure rushing over him. So this is what it was like. He had a pang of guilt for being somewhat overzealous when their positions had been reversed in the past. On the third pass, it was easier and he was able to move a little instead of just shiver under Gokudera's hold. "Unh... hah... okay... I was wrong... You are that big..." A shuddering breath and he pressed back again, meeting Gokudera's slow forward thrust. "Hah... no... no one else... oh, god --"

"Good," Gokudera breathed, and tugged down the collar of Yamamoto's shirt to kiss between his shoulder blades. "Relax," he hummed, and Yamamoto could feel the quirk of his mouth. "'You'll like it'." His hands moved now to the counter's edge, bracing himself there as he pressed deep, slowly, for all his recent irritation, still taking his time, making sure he wasn't hurting Yamamoto. "Not bad, hm?" the bomber coaxed, clearly proud of himself, and one hand left the counter to find Yamamoto's half-soft cock, palming it lightly, chuckling against the swordsman's back. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it."

"Nn..." Yamamoto groaned softly, arousal stirring once more under Gokudera's touch. "You don't have to be gentle," he said, chagrined. "I haven't really been in the past..." Not that Gokudera ever really complained. Well. Okay, he complained a lot after the fact but in the middle of it, it was all rough movement and demanding grunts and groans. Anyway, if he was gentle with Gokudera, the bomber would probably get mad for being treated like a woman or something.

"Sure you can handle it?" Gokudera wanted to know, giving his cock a tug. "You look like you're about to shake apart," he added, catching Yamamoto's eyes in the mirror, where his flushed cheeks, hooded eyes, panting mouth were all clearly visible.

"Ah... yeah... it's fine..." He flushed only darker though, bewildered by his own ravished appearance. Still, the bomber cool and in control, holding him down, filling him so completely... that part of their reflection was enough to coax his desire to heat again. "Hah... don't underestimate me, Gokudera... come on..."

Gokudera gave a little huff, braced them with his free hand and raised a brow at their reflection. "Allright." With a thrust of his hips, quicker this time, he filled Yamamoto once more, hooded eyes watching him over the swordsman's shoulder. "Don't look away," he reminded Yamamoto, a whisper on flushed lips. "I want us both to see."

It was a challenge. His first instinct was to curl forward, to squeeze his eyes shut and bury his face in his arms. He managed it though, as strange and almost uncomfortable as it was to watch his own pleasure flicker over his features or watch himself wince and gasp when Gokudera thrust in earnest, still slowly though, exploring, looking for the spot they both knew was somewhere... And when he found it, Yamamoto couldn't keep his eyes open, not when he gasped and jerked, hand slapping onto the mirror and leaving a sweaty smudge where he braced. "Y-yeah -- there! Oh --" He rocked back harder onto Gokudera's cock, in spite of any discomfort, loving the way they fit together and the connection it offered. He wanted Gokudera to take pleasure from him, wanted to know what it felt like when he'd come deep in the other man... and if he could keep hitting that spot, it would be a pleasant ride on the way. "H...harder, please..."

"Okay," he heard Gokudera gasp, for once no smart remark offered in exchange. Instead, he sank his teeth into Yamamoto's shoulder, not biting so much as holding on as his hips twitched, jerking forward in the start of a harder, quicker rhythm.

"Ah -- yeah -- like that --" His sweaty hands slid on the marble and he instead put them both on the mirror, letting him brace harder, breath fogging the glass as he panted. He was mostly used to it now and the brush of just the right angle now and then was enough to get his own hips moving in earnest, bucking back against Gokudera's thrusts. It was a bombardment of humiliation, from the loud squelch of their wet coupling to his own face reflected only inches away as he rocked back hard onto Gokudera's cock and made himself gasp. "Yeah... it's... good... please... keep going..." He was hard again, harder than before, heavy and bobbing between his legs. It was a risk he was willing to take when he shifted onto one arm to take his aching length in hand, stroking himself hard as his body's movements urged Gokudera to be even rougher.

Gokudera took the hint; inexperienced though he was with their positions, he'd become good at reading the language of Yamamoto's body. He knew when he was tired, when he was just putting on a face for the sake of negotiations and when he was actually enjoying his job. And he knew when Yamamoto was enjoying him/self/ and what he needed to do to keep that up. So he held tight to the edge of the counter, the fingers of one hand grazing Yamamoto's own bracing knuckles, and he snapped his hips forward, burying deep and holding before repeating the motion. He listened for the hitch of breath, the strangled groans that would tell him he was doing it right. In the mean time, he swallowed back his own moan, lest he break the rules he'd outlined so carefully. Locked door or no locked door, they still had to be quiet.

Yamamoto's panting and quiet groans echoed hollowly in the small room. "Yes... oh god, Gokudera..." His voice was strained, tight, stilted with pleasure but the words kept flowing. If there was anything that was long-standing habit, it was the unabashed vocalization of his praise for Gokudera. In bed and out of it, much to the bomber's irritation. "Really good... keep going..." The taller man's body melted under pleasure, bending just right for Gokudera's whim. Knees bent, hips tilted and spine curved. His forearm braced on the mirror now, palm flat against it and fingertips gripping. His hazy eyes focused on the reflection over his shoulder, biting his lip at the sight of Gokudera's face flushed with pleasure and concentration. He stroked himself faster, tighter as they found a pace together, both bodies moving with growing urgency. Gokudera's name was panted breaths that clouded the mirror when he pressed his cheek to his arm.

Gokudera had suspected he would enjoy this reversal of their original roles; he'd /known/ he would enjoy putting the cocky baseball player in his place, seeing him bow to the bomber's demands for once. What he hadn't realized was just how /good/ it would feel to be balls deep in the lithe hitman's heat. It wasn't as though he hadn't done this before. In fact Yamamoto was the first man he'd allowed to take the upper hand with any sort of regularity. And yet, this was different. He hadn't anticipated how good the idiot would look, shirt wrinkled and spine taunt, thighs shivering against his, breathing his name and /wanting/ him so wholly. "Don't be so loud," he hissed, pressing his brow between Yamamoto's shoulder blades, but he didn't mean it.

"Sorry," Yamamoto groaned, glancing over his shoulder. "It's just... nn, yeah... you're good at this," he added with a hint of breathless laughter in his voice. Gokudera could feel the tenses and shudders that rippled through his frame, feel the pull of muscles through his back as he tugged at his cock. "Really close..."

"Nn," Gokudera acknowledged, reluctant to admit even to himself how those words made his stomach jump with arousal, how the sight of Yamamoto's flushed face and the motion of the arm beneath his body made him want to pound recklessly into the other man's body. "Hurry up," he groaned quietly, but what he really wanted to ask was if they could slow down, make it last longer than was safe to risk. His head swam with his own impending climax and a surge of sudden irritation took hold of him. With a hungry snarl he reached around Yamamoto's hip and pushed his hand away. "Just hold on," he ordered, and took up the swordsman's cock in his own palm. Gokudera always functioned best when he was multitasking.

"Wha-" was the amount of the protest Yamamoto could muster before he choked on his voice. He clawed at the mirror with fingers dripping with precum, struggling to keep his voice in check when what he wanted to do was moan and gasp and cry out so loud that everyone in the dining room would hear them. He struggled to keep his eyes open, watching his own reflection with no small measure of humiliation and arousal - his own flush and his wet, parted lips, hooded eyes and shivering body. Gokudera's hand working his dark, dripping need that wet his shirt tails. "G-Gokudera...!" he moaned in warning, every breath tightening his hold around the other man's thrusts.

"Do it," Gokudera hissed, nearly at his own limit, but determined to see his partner undone first and employing no small amount of self control to make sure it happened that way. He thrust sharply, burying himself deep, matching the motion with his hand.

Yamamoto gasped just as sharply, choking on a cry that he barely managed to control. He couldn't keep his eyes open, no matter the rules, not when his whole body seized under Gokudera's touch. He could only curl in, clutching at the flat, smudged surface of the mirror, mouth open and trying not to shout as shot through Gokudera's fingers in the wrench of climax. He shuddered against Gokudera's frame, impossibly tight around him as he pulsed over and over in the bomber's calloused grip.

Gokudera's touch hitched, fingers digging tight into Yamamoto's hip as he fought his own crash. He bit his lip, trying to delay it, to ride the wave of the baseball player's climax as long as possible, but it was already a losing battle. Yamamoto was too tight, too hot around him, and the sight of his panting face and mussed hair in the mirror too perfect to look away from. In half a beat he had both arms tight around Yamamoto's torso, thrusting quick and hard, face pressed to his back as he stifled his own voice. "F-fuck," he groaned, his vision going white as orgasm took hold of his frame and he tensed, squeezing the breath from Yamamoto's lungs. "Fuck fuck fuck, oh god..."

Yamamoto had to bite his lip against a whimper of delight and exhaustion, all but collapsing against the glass as Gokudera's release rushed hot into him, curling tight around him. His legs shook tremulously even as he jerked back against Gokudera's hard, quick, deep thrusts, silently begging him to take every bit he needed. He was heaving with shuddering breath, cheek against the soiled mirror when they finally came to rest.

For a long beat, Gokudera didn't move, remaining as he was, laying against Yamamoto's back, both of them sweaty and spent. It was only when he slid free from the other's body, grimacing faintly at the sensation, that he pushed himself away, turning to leaning against the sink, back to the mirror, supporting palms flush to the cool granite. "We have to get back," he reminded them. 

They both knew it was true but Yamamoto wasn't about to let him off that easily. Before Gokudera could get any further away, he surged for the other man, catching him in a hard kiss, warmed with satisfaction and urgent affection. Gokudera stiffened immediately, his instincts honed by years of habit still not quite undone by a few short months of intimacy. But Yamamoto knew this and didn't let him pull away, just kissed him until the bomber remembered that he'd begun to almost sort of maybe like this. This thing they had. And when he kissed the baseball freak back, there was teeth involved, but he didn't make Yamamoto bleed and that, at least, was progress.

When they parted, it was breathless and Yamamoto lingered, brow pressed to brow. He smiled and it warmed his joyful eyes. "You're not nearly so tense now," he teased.

"Yeah, yeah," Gokudera rolled his eyes, but his mouth pulled a funny shape like he was trying not to smile. "Smug bastard."

A full, toothy grin appeared on Yamamoto's face, like he was fourteen again and not a full grown man who'd just had a tryst in a bathroom. "Yep," he replied and kissed Gokudera quickly once more. Then pausing, he pulled a bit of a face, nose wrinkling. "Okay, let's clean up before this drips into my socks."

"Try not to ruin the mood by speaking too much," Gokudera warned, before retrieving a handful of toilet paper for the idiot swordsman.

 

When they returned to the party, it was a relief to see that no one had missed them and in fact no one gave a second glance aside from Tsuna who offered his usual cheerful if bedraggled smile. At the opposite end of the table, Xanxus was unenthusiastically holding Squalo's face in his soup bowl.

Gokudera cleared his throat quietly and dragged a hand through his hair before leading Yamamoto back to the table, taking his own seat between Tsuna and the distastefully flamboyant peacock guy who always sat a little too close. "Forgive me for my absence, Tenth," he murmured. "This guy here has a weak stomach for rich Italian food." He gestured offhandedly toward Yamamoto, who'd seated himself to Tsuna's left.

Tsuna's brow bent in concern as he glanced at his swordsman. "Are you all right, Yamamoto?"

"No problem!" the other boy answered enthusiastically, already busily piling his plate with pasta. "Ready for seconds!"

While Tsuna puzzled over him and Gokudera fought inner rage at his inability to lie, the Varia agent beside them looked on with a bored pout and a sigh. Then Lussuria paused and sniffed once at the air. A positively devious smile curled his mouth and he leaned closer, cradling his cheek in a palm.

"How /do/ you like the facilities?" he asked, addressing Yamamoto. "I decorated everything myself, you know. Even if Xan-chan rejected the pink leopard print carpeting."

"It's a great castle!" Yamamoto chirped, oblivious as ever, while Gokudera coughed into his napkin, praying that the baseball idiot really wasn't as stupid as he'd always suspected he was.

"Isn't it just?" Lussuria replied cheerfully, wrinkling his nose. "Perhaps you'd like a tour later. I could show you my quarters."

"That'd be nice!" Yamamoto grinned.

"No!" Gokudera snapped simultaneously.

The two men blinked at each other for a moment before Gokudera scowled and looked away from Tsuna's questioning eyes. Unfortunately this meant meeting the perverted okama's shaded gaze.

But Lussuria just burst into a fit of delighted laughter behind fanned fingers. Beside him, Fran looked on with hooded eyes.

"Lussuria-mama is causing trouble again..." Fran observed quietly. "What's so funny?"

"I'll show you the tape later," was the tittered reply.


End file.
